The Shade of Spade
by Wandering Sentinel
Summary: A one shot following the conception of the psychotic right hand of Abhaddon; Spade.


_Hey folks, this here is a bit of a one shot about my favorite villain concept: the clone Spade. It was one of my earlier works when fleshing out an ongoing story I have in the City of Heroes universe. It still is one of my favorite pieces, even after all this time. I hope yall enjoy it._

_A couple of things you might want to know before you read this:_

_One: the Ace of Spades is my main toon on CoH and has the ability to siphon energy from his soul to form powerful beams of energy as well as enhance aspects of his body like his strength and regeneration._

_Second: Abhaddon is the biological brother of Ace, possessing similar soul siphoning powers, save he drains souls of other beings to fuel his dark ambitions. The guy is a bit of a freak and has a god complex._

_And Finally: This takes place fairly far into the Ace of Spades storyline, which is about fifteen years into the future from current time in the game. And YES, I do know I have not posted anything about Ace. That is to come... eventually..._

_Any who, let the words flow!_

* * *

The sun was shining, the sky a deep red. It was evening, and the sun began to upon setanother day. The last rays of warmth were hitting Mercy Island, as its occupants quickly completed their tasks of the day and prepared for the next.

Mercy Island was not the biggest of the Rogue Isles, not by a long shot. It was considered more of an outpost, a colony if you will, by the dictator of the Rogue Isles, Lord Recluse. The island did have a city, Mercy City, named for the island on which it resided. This city was not grand by any means, it dwarfed by many of the cities on the other islands within Recluse's domain. Mercy was, however, older than most of the other cities in the Rogue Isles, its founding predating the reign of Recluse.

Not willing to tear down and rebuild the crumbling structures, Recluse simply built a wall around the most heavily populated and well-kept region of the city, building a small outpost on the opposite end of the isle. This kept things under enough control to satisfy Recluse, while still upholding the Darwinian way of life he was so fond of.

As the sun sank below the horizon, a golden-red light danced upon the rooftops, as a gentle breeze chased after it. Upon one roof of one of the many buildings sat a man, his figure gently warmed by the dying embers of solar light and cooled by the caress of the evening breeze. His bare feet dangled off of the edge of the roof, and swayed back and forth above the inattentive passer-by below. He wore simple, black jogging pants, slightly dirty at the feet showing that the man had walked quite a bit without wearing shoes. He wore no shirt, revealing broad, muscular shoulders, and an equally muscular torso. His raven colored hair gently swayed with the breeze. The man's eyes were closed, and his faced wore what appeared to be a look of contentment. He was basking in the warmth of the setting sun, and quietly hummed an unidentifiable tune to himself.

When the last ray of light slipped below the horizon, and a dark blue covered the night sky, the man opened his eyes. An unnatural red glow emanated from them, and there seemed to be no visible evidence of either an iris or pupil, only deep red. He smiled to himself, the smile was not of innocence and contentment that had seemed to flow from the man just moments before the sun set. His wicked gaze peered over the edge of the roof, looking down upon the unsuspecting people rushing to their final destinations for the evening.

"Hmph... Foolish mortals..." He quietly mused, contemplating the meaningless existences those below him called life. He stood up, letting his toes hang over the edge, and stretched. He was tall, over seven feet tall. Along with his muscular physique and unique eyes, this made him a very imposing figure. He turned around and began to walk to the stairwell door on the roof.

He made his way down a flight of stairs and turned into a doorway. The door was long missing, apparently ripped straight off of its hinges. Through the door lied what remained of a penthouse. By the looks of the condition of the room, it had been at least a decade since anyone besides the homeless and junkies inhabited it. Glass from the broken in windows lied strewn about mixed with splinters from the ceiling and other random debris. There was some furniture that dotted the otherwise barren floor space. A couch lied in the center of room, with a mattress lying off to one of the corners. There was a table made out of what used to be the drink bar with a couple of the 

stools from the bar to serve as chairs. The bathroom was missing everything but a mirror with cracks spidering across it and a bathtub. Any hope that water would come from the faucet was met with disappointment.

This was the first memory of the man. Despite being a fully grown adult, his memory only went back a few hours, where he woke up in this abandoned building. This did not seem to bother the man much, if at all. He may not have more than only a few hours' worth of memory to call his own, but he was given knowledge that belonged to another.

Abhaddon...that name seemed to echo through his entire being. He knew he owed Abhaddon everything; he was, after all, the one who breathed life into the man. Well, breathe isn't really the right word for it. It was more like he took a portion of his own being to animate a lifeless husk that the man used to be. He knew that he was created as a clone. He was a genetic duplicate of one of the most powerful heroes of Paragon City, the Ace of Spades.

The problem with cloning humans though, is that every attempt produced nothing but dead cells shortly after the conception of the clone. So no full human body could ever grow. The R and D division of Crey began to investigate another alternative to cloning, husking. This technique involved creating a mass of tissue that was chemically similar to the makeup of a human body, give or take some odd quantities of compounds. This husk had preconstructed organ systems and body structures already intact, but was very generic. There was no DNA within the mass, so it held no characteristics. The process of husking involved imbuing a subjects DNA into the mass, and then, in essence culturing the husk until it grew into the likeness of the subject. Certain altercations could be made, but for the most part, the husk would become a full human body. However, no matter how many husks they imbued, none of them were actually living and breathing human beings, just lifeless corpses.

The only explanation anyone could come up with as to why these biologically stable and perfectly capable bodies were not actually living was that they were missing a soul. They believed that without souls, these lifeless husks would remain as such, lifeless.

This man was one of those husks. He knew that through manipulation, Abhaddon forced Crey scientists to create a husk from the DNA of the Ace of Spades. Once his body was complete, Abhaddon filled the husk with many of the stolen souls that were in his possession. This gave the man life, and knowledge; knowledge of his own creation and of all that Abhaddon knew. It amused the man as he thought about this. It would seem he possessed two consciousnesses within his being, his own, and then Abhaddon's.

While separate, the two were obviously synchronous with each other, as the man did not feel turmoil as those with multiple consciousnesses often experienced. No, he felt calm, collected, and he knew what the purpose to his existence was. Abhaddon created him to be an extension of himself, an avatar if you will, and as an avatar of Abhaddon, he was to aid him in his spread of pain, misery, and death. It was Abhaddon's ultimate goal to possess the souls of the entire world, to let his power grow with each soul stolen, until Abhaddon was strong enough to proclaim himself greater than all Creation. This became his goal as well.

There was one soul that Abhaddon wanted more than others however, the soul of the Ace of Spades. Due to the soul manipulation capabilities that Ace possessed, the power within his soul grew much higher than the strength within other people's souls. This power absorbed within Abhaddon's being would propel his own power into unimaginable heights, allowing him to consume the souls of a great many more people at a time.

The man knew that being the genetic twin of one of such a powerful being would be pivotal to achieving Abhaddon's goal. Ace's DNA was mutated and enhanced by the long-term exposure to his soul's energy, and this provided great strength to the man. Flexing his strength, he relished in the chance to tear the soul from Ace and every other person in the world.

The man walked towards the mattress in the corner of the penthouse. Lying atop it was a pair of buckled leather pants, gloves, and boots, a duster hat, a buckled leather chest piece thickened to provide a small protection against projectiles, a duster style trench coat, and a belt with two gun holsters, pistols neatly placed inside. The chest piece carried a bright, blood-red spade on the chest. The color matched his red eyes. Every other article of clothing was a pitch black.

The man smirked and chuckled to himself, Abhaddon had left these here for him. Apparently Abhaddon had a taste for being theatrical, and the costume that resembled the same one worn by the comic book hero the Shadow proved it. Even the pistols mimicked the long-barreled style that was portrayed in the comic. Stabbed into the middle of the mattress beside the stack of clothes was a katana. Its handle was black, with a bright metallic sheen on the blade. Along the edge of the blade ran a red coloration, obviously another theatrical addition added by Abhaddon.

The man pulled the katana out of its resting place and made a few practice swings with it. It was balanced, very well made, and sang a sad melody as it cut through the air. He smiled to himself, content with the quality of the weapon. He looked around the mattress for the sheath for the sword, but found none. He frowned slightly. How was he supposed to carry the blade with no sheath? He stared at the blade in his hand. He felt the urge to concentrate upon the blade. Seeing no point as to not follow instinct, the man began to focus upon it.

A dark, almost misty aura began to flow around the blade. The man could feel the sword becoming one with the darkness within him. He focused a bit harder, and the blade began to dissolve in the dark aura, and then flowed into his arm. The man grinned wickedly; he could feel the blade within him. He focused his thoughts on holding the blade in his hand once again, and the mist once more flowed from his hand into the shape of the blade. He started to laugh out loud as he repeatedly put the blade away and bringing it out again.

After a few minutes, he grew bored. Storing the blade, he began to put on the clothes that were lying on the mattress. After dressing completely, the man walked to the bathroom and looked into the fractured mirror. His visage pleased him, as he looked truly daunting. Looking at the spade on his chest he smiled wickedly once again. "Spade..." he said absentmindedly."Yeah ... I'll be Spade." He stated resolutely. Taking a couple more glances at himself in the mirror, he turned and walked towards the stairwell outside the penthouse.

Once again on the roof, Spade breathed in the thick night air. He felt alive and excited about the possibilities presented to him. Breaking in a sprint he ran to the edge of the roof, leaping at the last second, landing on the adjacent roof across the gap. He continued to do this, leaping from roof to roof, heading towards the walled portion of Mercy City.

Standing atop the last building before reaching the walled portion of the city, Spade stared up at the wall. It was high, too high for him leap. He could see people using an elevator, but where was the fun in that? Concentrating, he began to focus beyond the wall. His body began to feel light, and when he blinked, he found himself on the other side. He marveled at the power that had been given to him, Abhaddon sure knew what he was doing when he gave Spade life.

He proceeded across the rooftops of the city, leaping and teleporting with a childish glee, stopping only when approaching a large cluster of people. It appeared to be a bunch of gang members, and they had cornered what appeared to be a family of three: a father, mother and their daughter who seemed to be around eleven or twelve years old. The father was standing protectively in front of his wife and daughter, preparing to fight for his family. Spade smiled at the scene before of him; this would be the perfect opportunity to test out these powers he had been given.

Leaning over the ledge of the roof, Spade began to cloak his whole body in a dark mist. He then jumped off, falling in behind of the gang. Landing silently, he appeared to be nothing more than a shifting shadow. Pulling his pistols from his belt, he pointed one at the head of an unsuspecting thug. Grinning sadistically, he pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through the thug's skull, leaving a hole in his forehead where the bullet exited. He crumpled to the ground in a pool of his own blood.

"What the h-" another began to yell as he turned to where the gunfire sounded only to be shot in the head as well. The remaining ten or so thugs pulled out their weapons and opened fire upon Spade. Grinning wickedly, he ran in a circle around them, the gang members missing him due to his incredible running speed. As he ran around them, he picked off two more thugs, brain matter flying as their bodies slumping onto the ground. The sight of two more of their comrades falling before this monster began to terrify the thugs, and they began to run. This was exactly what Spade wanted, and as soon as they began to turn and run, he sent his shadow across the ground. It clasped onto their legs, preventing them from running. The thugs began to scream in terror as they were pulled deeper and deeper into misty shadow.

As the last of the screaming thug's heads fell beneath the shadow, the nefarious mist dissipated, leaving only mangled and horrified bodies of the thugs behind. It had appeared that their very souls were ripped from their bodies, and in fact, that is just what Spade had done. He gazed over his work proudly. The whimpering of the little girl snapped Spade from his admiration. Leveling his gaze towards the frightened trio, Spade eye's danced maniacally. They watched him fearfully, having just witnessed the atrocity Spade had committed. He began to laugh psychotically. "Run...run you pathetic mortals..." he mocked them.

The family did not hesitate and began to flee, only to have their legs caught in the same shadow that Spade used on the thugs. His maniacal laughter grew louder. The family struggled against 

the shadow, but to no avail, they were stuck the viscous substance slowly crawling up its victim's legs.

Spade holstered his pistols and held his hand out to the side. His sword materialized, and he held it pointed towards the ground to his side. "Too slow…" he sang out sardonically, "Now you're mine!" He shouted and began to charge towards the family. Screaming, they struggled to break free, only to see Spade raise his blade and bring it down upon them. "DIE!"


End file.
